


Not A Prank Call

by Blurryface_Superwholock67



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Based on a True Story, Happy Ending, I didn't make this up, I just wrote about it, No Angst, civilain!cas, cop-verse, operator!dean, references to past domestic violence, this actually happened guys, this ones just for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-15 23:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12331134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blurryface_Superwholock67/pseuds/Blurryface_Superwholock67
Summary: Dean is a 911 operator and today of all days he gets a prank call, really?Oh crap.This is no prank.





	Not A Prank Call

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I decided to throw this little fic out there because it's the one year anniversary of a previous piece of mine and this has been waiting to be put up since forever. Also, it says it in the tags but again, the story you are about to read is a fictional piece based on true events. This author just happened upon the story one day and decided to re-tell it for you.

Dean took a look at the clock again and sighed heavily. One more hour and he was gonna finally be relieved of duty and he couldn't be happier, he was dog tired. He didn't know how Benny could work the night shift almost effortlessly. Well, none of that mattered. One more hour and he was home free.

His thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing. With expert precision, he pushed the answer call button on his headset.

“Nine one one, what is your emergency?” He answered as monotone as he could. He didn't want to seem too peppy, not with the job he has.

“Yes hello,” answered a gravelly deep voice, the caller seemed well, not frantic, but not calm either, Dean assessed that the situation wasn't too dire, but strong enough for a 911 call, “I would like to order a large pizza.” The voice said.

Dean rolled his eyes. So he was dealing with a regular smart-ass huh? Ugh. He was not in the mood for this.

“Sir, do you know that you've dialed nine one one?” Dean politely asks, whilst clenching his fists.

“Yes, I do. The address is 221 Wayward St.” The voice stressed.

“Uh, I'm sorry, sir, do you have an actual emergency?” Dean asked.

“Yes.” The voice seemed almost relieved. “Yes, I do. How soon can you get here?”

“I'm sorry, sir, this is not a pizza delivery service, this is nine one one.” Dean reiterates.

“Yes,” the voice almost desperately stresses, “I am aware of this, which is why I called. Please come here soon, we would _really_ love to eat.”

There was an almost begging in the voice of the caller. Whoever he was, he certainly sounded like someone trying to hide the fact that they were stressed.

Wait a minute.

“Are you asking for pizza because there is someone in the room with you?” Dean finally realizes.

“Yes, that is correct.” The voice answers. Dean can practically feel the relief of the caller through the phone.

“Alright,” Dean says. “Say pepperoni if you believe you're in immediate danger, say olives if they have a weapon and say cheese if this person is high or drunk.”

“Uh, one large cheese, and I would like to order a second pizza with extra pepperoni and no olives.” The voice says.

“Okay I have an officer only about a mile from your location and I'm sending him there now,” Dean reassures, carefully. “You're gonna be okay sir.”

“Thank you so much.” The voice says. “I hope to see you soon.”

The voice on the other side ends the call and Dean doesn't hesitate. “Sam, we got a situation in the neighborhood at 221 Wayward St. It looks like we have a 10-16 in progress. It doesn't look good.” Dean says.

“We're on our way,” Garth, Sam’s partner, answers.

After he hangs up, Dean gets an uneasy feeling. He searches up the history of 221 Wayward St.

Just as he suspected, there have been complaints of domestic violence here before. He hopes the caller with the deep voice is alright.


End file.
